Characteristics of Love
by iluvkitties
Summary: Ginny reflects on what she loves about Harry, and what he loves about her.
1. Chapter 1

I own none of these characters. They all belong to the one and only J.K. Rowling

Chapter 1- Hands

Harry and I were at dinner one evening. We chatted happily with Ron and Hermione, who were getting on well now that Ron was shot of "Lav-Lav", while eating the delicious meal prepared for us by the house elves. I was blissfully happy now that Harry had finally noticed me and did something about it. I was clearly on cloud nine.

Underneath the table, I grabbed Harry's hand and laced my finger through his. I loved how perfectly my hands fit in his, almost as if we were built to be the other's puzzle piece. Against my skin, the sensation of having his strong, callused hands enclose mine felt unreal. The calluses from years of playing quidditch, slaving for his aunt and uncle, and practicing defense weren't rough. I liked to consider them character. Harry's fingers were long and slender, the perfect seeker's hands. He squeezed my hand gently and kissed my cheek. Ron made a show of looking away, but I didn't care.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- Hair

The summer after the war ended, Harry and I sat outside underneath an oak tree. I was between his legs leaning against his chest. Harry played with my hair, gently slipping his fingers through my long locks. That was his favorite thing to do. Anytime we were together, Harry somehow found a way to play with my hair. He didn't need to talk, only touch or smell my hair. People might find that weird, but I know for him, it's a comfort thing. He doesn't know it, but I think my red hair reminds him of his mother, makes him feel safe.

Sometimes I liked to tease him and pretend I'm planning on changing it. "Harry," I said that summer afternoon.

"Hmm?" he replied still running his hands through my hair.

"I've been thinking. I want to go blonde. I'd look nice as a blonde, wouldn't I? Fleur pulls it off very well and I was even considering cutting my hair short too. What do you think?" I smiled when I felt him tense up behind me. He stopped playing with my hair.

"I think you're beautiful the way you are." Harry said.

I turned around to face him. "But I'd be prettier with short blonde hair. Besides I'm tired of my hair being so long; it's too hot." Harry continued to frown. Clearly he couldn't tall I was joking yet, but soon I smiled at him and kissed his cheek. "I'm only joking. I know you're dating me for my hair."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3- Eyes

From the moment I saw him, his eyes caught my attention. They were perfect almond shaped orbs I know he inherited from his mother. His eyes are beautiful; they reveal every one of his emotions regardless of how hard he tried to conceal them. Anger, love, sadness, quiet, all can be seen in his wonderful green eyes.

We were taking a walk around the Burrow's grounds. Harry held my hand and remained in thoughtful silence. I know something's been on his mind for a while. He's been relatively confined in himself for a couple of weeks now. I want to weasel whatever it is out of him, but I know that in time, he'll tell me.

Suddenly, he led me back into the house away from the falling snow outside. The warmth of the Burrow melted the snow on our clothing. Harry moved to the living room and sat on one of the old stuffed couches. He motioned for me to come over and sit beside him, so I did.

Flames from the burning fire danced in his eyes. Upstairs, Mum hustled around in search of Christmas decorations. Christmas was a week away, and Mum was already in holiday frenzy. Ron and Hermione were somewhere in the house (probably a cupboard snogging), and Dad was in his study.

I settled on the couch, resting my head in his lap; he immediately tangled his hands in my hair. My eyes closed automatically, and my breathing slowed. His hand gently massaged my head. "Gin," Harry's soft voice caught my attention. If not for the silence, I would've missed it. "You know I love you right?"

Looking up into his eyes, I could he was struggling to find the right words. "Of course, but it's always nice to hear it from you." He wasn't starring at me, but he wasn't looking away from me either. Something about his expression concerned me. "You know I love you right?"

A flash of joy flickered in his eyes but was quickly replaced by anxiety. "Will you marry me?" to say I was shocked would be an understatement. I stared flabbergasted and wondering if he was being serious. His eyes held the truth, anxiety and hope mingled together. He truly wanted to marry me.

"Yes of course I will!" I heard myself shriek. As he leaned down to kiss me, I saw in his eyes pure love.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4- Freckles

Harry always loved my freckles; I never did. He told me one day he was going to count every single one of them. To that I told him he'd be counting for a while.

One day before our wedding, we sat in the kitchen of the Burrow making preparations for the upcoming wedding. My mum continued her attempts at convincing me into changing the theme colors from pale yellow and pale pink to green to match Harry's eyes. Apparently it would be more romantic, but I refused. "Mum," I said trying to remain calm all the while feeling heat creep up my neck. "I've told you a million times already. We're sticking with the yellow and pink. Pink goes with the lilies, and since I'm wearing Harry's mum's dress, which has light yellow on it, the other color is yellow. Please can you get that through your head?" My voice remained composed during the entirety of that rant. "Now, let's focus on the seating arrangements. I don't want Auntie Muriel sitting close enough to our table to drive me batty yet not so far away that she feels affronted."

However, Mum wasn't listening. With an exclamation of' "Oh, I have a lovely green tie Harry can wear. I'll fetch it now; I think it is upstairs.", and she flitted out of the kitchen.

I grumbled bitterly, and covered my face with my hands. "Urgh, Harry am I making any sense, because obviously my lovely mother seems to be missing the point?"

Harry kissed the back of my neck and blew on the flushed skin there. "She will eventually." He whispered to me, his breath tickling my ear.

"But she's so frustrating!" I growled.

"She's just excited. You are her only daughter after all, and she wants to help plan." Again he blew on my neck blowing some hairs around behind my ear. "You know, when you get irritated, your freckles stand out really well."

"If that is supposed to make me happy, I'm sorry to say it didn't. Don't talk about my freckles; I hate them."

"Well I love them. You know, I could play connect the dots."

" Bloody hell Harry, you're such a div sometimes." I snorted.

"Hey, you're marrying me."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5- Smile

Growing up around Harry, I soon realized he rarely ever truly smiled, and it broke my heart. From the first moment I saw him, I vowed to spend the rest of my life trying to worm a smile out of him.

At first, the task seemed impossible. My biggest issue in the beginning was of course my inability to speak in front of him. Once I was able to overcome that road block, making him smile wasn't as much of a problem. He had the same humor as me. Harry's the kind of person who's smile can make anyone (as long as they're not out to kill him, A.K.A. Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters) giddy with happiness. Every time I saw him grin, I could live on the moment until I saw the next smile.

Everyone has different smiles, and Harry was no exception. The most common smile to appear when we were in school was the fake smile. He used to attempt to hide his grief so he'd give you one of those forced smiles to fool you into believing he was fine. I never fell for his act; I could always distinguish between a real grin and his fake one. His muscles seemed strained when he forced a smile. The big giveaway though was the simple fact that he wouldn't get a tiny crinkle at the corner of his eyes, and his true smile always reached his eyes.

Then there was the 'I'm bloody uncomfortable' smile. Here his teeth would be clamped so tightly they looked about to break. Also his eyebrows would lift slightly, and not in a questioning manner either.

His most maddening yet incredibly sexy smile was what I called the 'Potter Smirk'. It's a cocky grin I've seen his father wearing in many pictures. One corner of his mouth turned up, and his lips remained pressed tightly together. During times when he knows he's won an argument, or when he's teasing someone, particularly me, this smirk makes its appearance. Another moment, which I'm the only person who'd experience this (at least I'm positive), is when he's checking me out, and he just wants to irritate me.

My favorite smile of all is his real smile. This one lights up his entire face and sends a warm felling through my body. I adore the way his grin is slightly crooked, and how his front teeth peek through his lips shyly. By the corner of his eye, he gets that perfect crinkle, and even though it's cliché, his eyes gleam. I live for the moments when he's happy and relaxed enough to smile like that.

At the end of the day, when he comes home from a tiring day of work and finds me busy in the house, he gives me the sweetest smile, a smile full of love.


End file.
